THE ONCE AND FUTURE FIC
by gothica vanessa
Summary: Yet another resurrection fic (sorry?). ARTHUR RETURNS IN CHAPTER 2. Lots of (my) feels, and overdue conversations (at last!) between our precious King and Warlock. Title might change as this goes along, but this has always been the work title in my head since I started thinking about writing it, so... Starts right when 5.13 ends. WARNING FOR SUICIDAL THOUGHTS IN CHAPTER ONE.
1. Chapter 1

_(Warning for this chapter: suicidal thoughts)_

**I. (MERLIN POV)**

Merlin holds Mordred's sword in his right hand, appraising it. He still can't believe he has found it; still can't believe it's actually in his hands.

Over sixty years now - nothing; yet far too long - Merlin has been waiting for this moment. Since he has begged Freya, and threathened (and apologised - he couldn't blame Freya for not listening; he wouldn't have either, if their roles had been reversed), and begged again - in vain, for Excalibur. Since he has finally understood that he was a fool to hold onto hope for something that couldn't, wouldn't come to pass. Arthur was *never* coming back: Merlin had simply witnessed enough - he had witnessed too much; and too many times; and definitely one time too much one time too many - to ignore it any longer.

/

It was not that Merlin had grown too tired of _waiting _\- too tired of the ache, the longing, the loneliness... For Arthur? Merlin would *always* wait; however long it might take.

It was not that Merlin had come to believe mankind didn't deserve Arthur to rise again to start with - even though it *was* an easy conclusion, when it was at its worst, when it turned its anger against itself - too many horrors, atrocities, bloodshed. But mankind _could_ be beautiful, when loving, in any form; and marvelous, too, when it was at its best; when it turned its anger towards its limits: the medical progress over the ages would have had Gaius exhilarated, and proud; and what about its general neverending thirst for discovery, for explorations, for _quests_? - of course Arthur would come back: if only he could.

It was just that Merlin had finally understood that he had been played - not even because Albion (the name has since long fallen out of use and its people had been scattered through the globe, so it might mean nowadays something else than it had used to to start with) had got united without Arthur (and even if it still only meant Great Britain, well, it might after all need to be united _again_); but simply because the list of unending reasons why Arthur should have come back to save the day and yet hadn't (to mention only the very top of the list: half of humanity wiped out in a finger snap by the Black Death? the whole world collapsing in chaos, bend on destroying itself - World War?) had turned out suspiciously too long, and finally _impossibly_ too long, as mankind had truly reached the lowest point not only ever but even possible without Arthur rising yet again (organised experiments and torture on toddlers, honestly?).

So.

Arthur wasn't ever coming back from the dead, simply because _no one_ ever came back from the dead (except as a shade - and that would be even worse, wouldn't it? - or at a cost too great to burden anyway). It had been easy to believe in the prophecy; simply because it had been what Merlin had wanted. A distant promise of Arthur returning was still way better than no Arthur at all, and so Merlin had willingly taken the bait. But the _fake_ prophecy had obviously been made up; as revenge, or entertainment - or both; and Merlin had felt stupid for not having realized this ages ago - The Sidhe were proud indeed; and Merlin _had_ thwarted them. (It had been easy to forget it at first - to tell himself that they hadn't known Arthur was THE Arthur at the time, whatever...) Merlin wasn't sure about what Kilgharrah might have exactly known or not (On the one hand, Kilgharrah had forged Excalibur, who had always truly helped them. And Merlin _had_ been warned by the Great Dragon, right from the start, and repeatedly; so wouldn't it all have worked out just fine if he had listened. On the other hand, if he had listened? Wouldn't he have been a monster, punishing people for crimes they had not yet committed? So maybe giving him the truth had in fact been the sure way to have him not acting on it. After all, Kilgharrah had hated the Pendragons - at least Uther - enough to have tried to wipe out Camelot. And he hadn't been exactly pleased either to discover Merlin was a Dragonlord, even if he had seemed to soften when he had realized that Merlin would not control him as a puppet. And last but not least, Kilgharrah hadn't taken care of Aithusa as Merlin had thought he would; and that's how Aithusa had ended up with Morgana - and had forged the sword that had killed Arthur), but it didn't change anything anyway...

Well, you bet Merlin hadn't been willing to indulge them any longer. Not that anger was what was driving Merlin, of course. There was simply *no point* anymore in waiting. Nor in living, to be honest - especially as it might be what kept him from actually finding Arthur again somehow; next life, paradise, wherever and however and whenever? Merlin was no religious man, but even he had no answer about what happened after death after all. Maybe it was worth a shot? It was a very, very thin chance indeed; but it was still more of a chance than just staying here waiting for *nothing*... So. Merlin had begged Freya for Excalibur. But as she had kept absent, it had dawned on him at some point that Excalibur _wasn't_ the only blade he could use... Merlin had searched for that other mighty weapon through his magic for years; then had sent his creature to retrieve it when he had successfully localized it.

/

And here, now, finally, is Mordred's sword.

And Merlin feels no dread, no fear, while holding it. If anything, he feels calm - calmer than he has ever been, probably. And that's how Merlin knows that his decision is indeed right: _even his magic agrees_.

He should do it in the lake though. Magical artifacts just shouldn't linger around in the open, huh...

Yes.

Let Mordred's blade rest along Excalibur.

And let Merlin rest along Arthur.

Freya will make sure they all lay undisturbed.

Merlin blindly pulls at the cord around his neck, taking it out from under his tunic and sliding his left hand along it until it closes around Arthur's mother sigil (AN) and Camelot's ruler's ring (Gwen had it brought to him, so he could give it back to its true owner on his return: Camelot in the meantime was to be ruled by a Concil of Knights and a Guardian, until Arthur would come back to sit on his kept empty throne and his kept empty seat at the Round Table).

Merlin closes his eyes; makes a silent promise.

_I'm coming, Arthur._

He takes a first step into the lake.

.

_Backstory: +1500 years in short - because it hurts and I just don't have the heart to fully write the prologue I had intended to write:_

_Merlin has never left the lake. He kept waiting. He couldn't, wouldn't leave, (nor SLEEP even for that matter by the way) no matter for how short - imagine if Arthur came back just when he was NOT there, huh. And of course he wouldn't trust his magic to warn him somehow - it had failed Arthur when he needed it the most after all. So no. Merlin has never left the lake. But Gaius has mentioned to him (Merlin got visitors, in the beginning (and his mother came to live with him until she died); before he cut himself off the world) how maybe the time he was given without Arthur was to LEARN more about magic; so that he would be prepared when Arthur came back to face whatever ordeal they were supposed to face. Because even if Merlin is hyper *aware* - he feels *everything*, through his magic - practice is necessary too. So Merlin mastered the art of molding sand/clay and animating it with his magic (basically, he walks the Earth as Old Merlin - because people tends to let old grumpy men on their own - whenever he needs anything physically). He can speak, hear, see, learn, through him, following the world as it expands (America, Australia, etc etc, because even if he was aware they existed, he couldn't physically *go* there before they were 'found'). And he can touch, and carry (for example you bet he brought back something red for Arthur to wear every time - Merlin sort of owns a 'male red mode through the ages' museum by now - and he hates it, of course). The first time Merlin has truly thought Arthur *would* come back has been The Great Plague. The second time has been WWI. The last drop has been the Nazis and Unit 731 experimentations. So Merlin sent its creature to fetch Mordred's sword after having localized it though his magic - and that's what Old Merlin is bringing back to him when this all starts (aka that shot at the end of 5.13)…_

_(AN: Just so you know, Merlin's magically pierced in the thickness of Ygraine's sigil to pass a cord - he __wouldn_ _'t make a hole in the front design of course!)_

_(Also... A resurrection fic!? What am I getting myself into!? I'm still a newbie around here so I definitely haven't read enough Merlin fics to ever claim making something original (so by the way, please feel free to let me know your all time favourites resurrection fics! So far I've read The Change Trilogy and Like the cycle of the year we begin again (and they're both gorgeous reads so run and read them if you haven't yet!) but I haven't seen (yet?) my take, both on the waiting and on the getting along after Arthur's return, in the fics I've read so far, so I thought I might as well write this down ?)_


	2. Chapter 2

**II. (ALTERNATE POV)**

Arthur regains consciousness under water.

He's cold; so cold he's shaking - helpless, steady spasms he just can't put an end to (being past half dead apparently has repercussions?). But it's bright, up over him, and he instinctivally pushes himself up towards the light; towards the air.

The moment he breaks the water, Arthur registers that he's not only alive but that he feels *just right*. No pain in his side, no weakness, no dizzinesss, no strain: _nothing wrong at all_ \- except from the convulsions from the cold, but you bet he's not going to complain, all considered. The sun is veiled by clouds, but feels nonetheless like a welcomed warmth on his face, and Arthur breathes deep, bringing his arms up and turning his palms towards the warmth too as the tremors start to subdue; he's alive!; and well! He doesn't need to pat his absent wound in wonder, nor to look at the water, transparent clear instead of bloodened red, to know that what he feels is true.

_Merlin's done it._

He *has* saved his life.

_Again._

It's both unexpected (Arthur had been so sure he had taken his last breath, when all had finally faded to black) - and yet somehow expected. Magical waters and a sorcerer who knows how to work its power would do wonders, obviously. It has happened before after all, bringing his beloved Guinevere's spirit back?

A sudden realization; and Arthur can't help but laugh. And it feels so exhilarating - alive! alive! - the laugh turns into a howl; and Arthur relishes on it, throwing his head back. Honestly? How could he have ever been *so* blind - of course it had been Merlin then too by the water edge, disguised as an old woman!

/

Somewhere on his right, a buoying laugh erupts.

And Merlin knows that laugh. So hearing the exact right tone of that entirely unexpected laughter at once feels as if a vicious invisible hand is squeezing at his heart.

He _had_ forgotten it; he realizes. But he would recognize that howling laugh amongst any other...

Merlin doesn't dare to *believe*. Cruel hope nonetheless blooms unbidden in his heart, and his eyes can't help but zero in on the source of that sound.

And it is exactly as it should be; exactly as it has used to be...

There *is* **ARTHUR**_;_ standing in the lake, water reaching his hips, chainmail glistening, head thrown back as he laughs. (Has anyone ever looked more simply breathtakingly majestic no matter what they did and even without trying?) Merlin can only see his back, but you bet he would recognize the shape of that back amongst any other too.

Merlin's breath is knocked out of him; and Mordred's sword falls from his hand.

Merlin knows what he hears and sees *cannot* be true. He has seen the world in a much, MUCH more desperate state without Arthur coming back then. There is absolutely no reason for Arthur to come back _right now_. So. He is being granted a vision; that's all. But of course Merlin wouldn't, couldn't, try to take his own life anymore, not after having had even just a glimpse... Besides, he has just handed over the last sword that could end him anyway. Merlin has to acknowledge The Sidhe's thinking; they know exactly well how to play him. But damn, they are vicious.

But no matter the abysmal pain from such a low blow, Merlin still considers this to be a gift, and is determined to draw it out for as long as he will be allowed to. Those few seconds might sustain him for another fifteen centuries to come, and maybe more...

/

Arthur quiets down after a while. Thinking about his savior: _where is he_?

Arthur scans his surroundings; and the warmth he feels when he finally spots Merlin definitely eclipses the sun.

/

The laughing stops, and Arthur turns, eyes searching; and a bright smile appears on Arthur's face the moment they find him.

"Merlin!"

Merlin's knees give out. His name through Arthur's lips has sounded *exactly* right - righter than in any memory Merlin has relied on to live on hanging onto. And it hurts. The shame, and guilt - to realize he had forgotten *this* too? It shouldn't have been possible - to have something _so dear_ going misformed; a pale, withered, incomplete, erroneous copy, so far from the original that its truth has disintegrated? Oh yes, it hurts.

And Merlin's fingers dig; hard, deep into the sand. He cannot reach out. He longs for; he *aches* to - both physically and emotionnally. But he _cannot_. As long as it's only his eyes and ears that are deceived, then he can pretend it is true...

Merlin starts to cry. He can't help it; he cries - as he hasn't cried since, well, all those years ago: silent tears endlessly streaming down his face, unabached, treacherous; and Merlin _hates_ them - hates the way they blur his vision when he has to - HAS TO - *see*. He is powerless to stop them though.

It is *blinding*.

Merlin has tried, _so hard_, to keep remembering, to NOT forget. But his memories, even sustained with his magic, have so obviously failed him; haven't done Arthur any justice at all. Merlin has forgotten so, SO much; and being proven just how much he has actually forgotten slices through him like a knife. The exact darker shade of Arthur's blond hair when wet. The exact way Arthur stands and moves. The exact sharpness of Arthur's features - his nose, his cheeckbones, his jawline. The exact shape of that smile - that particular, undeniably fond smile following his name Merlin has used to live for and from. Guilt slashes through him again. How could he have *forgotten* the exact shape of *that* smile; the most precious to him amongst the myriad of each and every of Arthur's smiles?

/

But then Merlin _collapses_, instead of cheering with him - he has thought him gone for good? And Arthur suddenly feels like there is still after all a gaping aching wound on his body; but this one deep in his chest, and of his own making. He owes Merlin *everything*, doesn't he? Yet he _has_ hurt him - and so very severely. Despite it, though, Merlin obviously still cares for him; and so very much... His own behaviour puts Arthur to shame. So. Arthur hadn't had the time nor the strength to plainly apologize before. But he has now; and he won't run away from the words that he needs to say - and even more important, that Merlin needs to hear...

/

Arthur is now rushing through the water towards him - so fierce!, so strong!; alive and well!? His smile is gone though; replaced by worry - because of Merlin's tears, no doubt: yet another reason to hate them then...

And then Arthur is plopping down in front of him, out of breath; and Merlin gets proof again of just how much he had forgotten - the exact colours and depths of Arthur's eyes! There is now a fragile smile back on Arthur's face - a soothing smile, meant only for Merlin's sake; and it's going to break Merlin's heart, no doubt.


	3. Chapter 3

**III. (MERLIN POV)**

"I'm fine, Merlin. I'm fine."

And not only the voice is perfect, but the language is the one Merlin hasn't heard for over a millenium...

"Arthur?" is all Merlin can let out - no more than a somewhat hiccuped whisper as he still has no breath, no voice, to start with; but an obvious plea coming from the depths of his soul. A world of wonder, and longing, and ache, and disbelief, and hope - because no matter what, Merlin can't help but want; can't help but hope - in those two syllabs that own his heart. Magic *does* exist, after all; and Merlin would give it all - all the magic he possesses, all his pain, all his hopes, everything - for this vision to turn real.

Arthur's already fragile smile falters: "Don't you remember, Merlin. No man is worth your tears." The reproach is nothing but badly fake though, and Arthur's voice somehow breaks as it ends: "Especially not me."

And then suddenly - and so quickly Merlin doesn't register any of it before it has actually happened, and so it is too late for him to move backwards to prevent it from happening - Arthur brings his hands on Merlin's face, gloved fingers brushing his tears away under his eyes - and Merlin can *feel* them!?

Merlin is lost; lost in what he sees, lost in what he hears, and lost in what he feels. Can this be true? Can it truly be true?

But then Arthur starts speaking again - rushed out words leaving Merlin stunned.

"I apologize, Merlin. The way I reacted- (sigh) I deserve all the names you've ever called me and more. I'm thick, and dumb, and *such* an idiot, and a complete dollophead, and a cabbage head, and a prat, and a royal *ass*, and I still don't know what a _clotpole_ exactly is but I'm certain I am the definition for one indeed too. I may _have_ seen anyone with magic turning against me; but I should never have doubted *you*, Merlin. I should have remembered the butterfly (AN)."

Merlin just cannot believe what he's hearing. It's everything he has ever wanted to hear; everything he has ever hoped to hear - so how can it be real?

"But more than anything, I think, I'm sorry because _I should have known_, Merlin. I called you a liar; looked at you like you had _betrayed_ me. But you've told it. You actually shouted it for everyone to hear; and I believe you nearly told it to me, privately, at least once, and presumably more... But I just didn't want to hear it, did I? So I'm sorry I was such a coward; a *coward*, Merlin. And I'm so sorry, and so ashamed - and honestly I really can't blame you for not trusting me to understand: because you were right; and _it guts me_, Merlin. And 'There is no place for magic in Camelot'? How hard it must have been for you to say-"

Merlin can't help but shake his head, about to interject. Not because (even if it's true) one exception shouldn't and couldn't be enough to break a rule anyway; at least not at once, and not until Arthur would understand that magic itself _isn't_ corrupt. Not because it hadn't been hard in fact to say those words - at least not hard enough, and that will always feel wrong. But simply because real or not just cannot matter anymore; not when Arthur's gaze is boring into his very core, pleading and honest and full of a guilt Merlin just can't bear to witness: "Arthur-"

Arthur silences him though, cutting him off by shaking him once by the shoulders: "But what counts is that I know, now, Merlin. Your magic is not only _part_ of who you are; it also _makes_ you who you are. And I will trust it; because I trust *you*. You must believe- No, let me rephrase this before you obey me again - because you *always* obey me, don't you Merlin; even when whatever I say in anger or despair isn't intended nor meant to be an order; and I've done it so often, haven't I... 'Do not put me into that position again'? 'Tell me it's gone'? (AN) So. _Can you_ believe me; Merlin? It's not an order; I definitely do not deserve to give you any order at all to start with anyway. You don't even have to forgive me; you shouldn't forgive me maybe. But please, at least, can you b-"

"Of course I believe you. And there is nothing to forgive, Arthur. Nothing." Merlin half shouts, ancient words flowing instinctively, head skaking 'no' for emphasis, bringing his hands up to Arthur's wrists and pushing downwards, keeping Arthur's hands in place on his shoulders. If this is a waking dream then Merlin never wants to leave it. This is solid enough, real enough, for the rest of his maybe neverending life. "You're here. You're well. That's all that matters, Arthur; I swear that's all that has ever mattered to me."

Arthur holds his gaze for a long, long time; as if waiting for Merlin's clear eyes to betray his words. And when he finally seems confident enough that they are indeed genuine, he whispers, but it sounds like a pledge: "And you're here, Merlin, and you're *you*; and I swear that's all that will matter to me from now on."

.

_AN: Tiny quotes from my Body Swap fic; sorry, I just couldn't NOT put it there, it just FITS..._

_(Also, just imagine they speak in old brittonic... but please don't expect me to write it? sorry?)_


	4. Chapter 4

**IV. (MERLIN POV)**

Arthur squeezes his shoulders one last time and then lets go, about to stand.

"Now, let's go home. We have a feast to prepare in your honor."

Merlin cannot tell if his heart has just completely healed or totally disintegrated. _Let's go home?_

It's real! Of course it's real. If Arthur doesn't know- It's real! Arthur is truly back! And that's...

But *Arthur doesn't know*. And so *Merlin will have to tell*.

Merlin blanches. He feels guilty, anew. Because he has hoped and prayed and begged for Arthur to return; with everything he had. He has been selfish, hasn't he? And he has been blind; stupidly blind - again. All those years he has prepared for taking care of a still bleeeding wound, for clothes, for food, for any necessities; but it has never crossed his mind that Arthur wouldn't know... and he is not prepared for Arthur's emotional pain; and even less for causing it. Some small part of Merlin can't help but wish now that Arthur had stayed in the lake after all, had never awoken. It's too cruel. Merlin shouldn't be the one to break Arthur's heart.

Arthur is reading his panick wrong, of course:

"Don't worry- No one else has to know about your magic if you don't want to. But you DID end the war, Merlin; you did what I couldn't do - Morgana... All Camelot should know what they owe y-"

And Merlin can't bear Arthur's concern on his behalf any longer; making it last feels like a betrayal. And no matter how much Merlin doesn't want Arthur to get hurt, ever, he cannot and will not lie - not about this. Conjuring ghosts wouldn't be real and would only make it worse in the end anyway. The only option is a clear cut, right away.

"It's not- (deep breath) I'm so sorry, Arthur. We cannot go home. You were gone. For such a long time. For such a long, long time, Arthur. I'm so, so, sorry."

And Merlin watches, feeling his eyes filling up once more, as Arthur's eyebrows furrow in incomprehension; as Arthur blinks, taken aback as realization hits; as Arthur's eyes turn desperate and pleading, shaking his head in denial-

"No. I remember just-" His voice falters as he probably notices the house behind them - the house that definitely hadn't been there before - and who knows what more (trucks on the road farther away? joggers in strange clothes passing by?) "And you look exactly-"

And Merlin has nothing to say, nothing to offer, to soothe the hopelessly growing pain ready to crush his King, hollow him out - nothing but the cruel testimony of his once more, always, useless tears; and Arthur _knows_, indeed.

It comes out as a whisper, but it sounds as if Arthur's spirit has gone with it, vacillating.

"They're all-"

And the only thing Merlin can say still is: "I'm so sorry" - again.

"My people? My Knights? My- Guinevere..."

And it hurts. Oh, it hurts; to have to see Arthur's broken heart on his face, to hear its crack as his voice breaks on his Queen's name and his head turns away.

"I'm so sorry."

A litany; a chant; a prayer. Over, and over, and over. Pointless, worthless, useless, anyway; as his King cries silent tears, all the more shattering by their quietude...

Then Arthur is up and pacing, a fierce but dark spark in his eyes as his hands turns into fists - anger, rage; of course.

"Why did you bring me back then? How could you bring me back if-?"

And Merlin would gladly take a blow; if it could help Arthur to feel better, somehow. But nothing comes. It's Arthur. Of course nothing comes.

Arthur briefly closes his eyes, inhaling sharply. And when he opens them again, Arthur's anger hasn't faded; but isn't directed towards Merlin anymore.

"But then; you would have brought me back right away, wouldn't you have - if it had been in your power..."

And Merlin feels crushed, again; by how he *always* fails Arthur, indeed.

"I'm so sorry..."

.

_AN: I realize I do have a thing for Merlin crying - blame it on Colin's A+ crying performances - so of course it has to appear somewhere... Merlin will not weep though for much longer, if it can reassure you..._


	5. Chapter 5

**V. (ARTHUR POV)**

Merlin hasn't said the word; but Arthur heard it anyway.

_Dead_.

He'd been _dead_.

And for such a long, long time, Merlin had said; even though it feels merely minutes since he closed his eyes?

It makes no sense; it feels unreal - impossible. Merlin hasn't aged a day...

And yet... The grief in Merlin's eyes tells him it's true. Everyone he knows, except Merlin, is gone. Arthur doesn't know what feels worse. To know that he will never see any of them again; or to know that he has failed them all... He feels unfulfilled, hollowed out; utterly _lost_, even though knowing exactly where he is...

He feels furious, too. What is the point of coming back to life, if it's coming back *too late*?

But Artgur simply knows, somehow, that Merlin - who has literally collapsed upon seeing him emerge from the lake; who has seemed so utterly shattered by his apology; and who looks now so honestly sorry for his loss, gazing up at him from the ground, nothing but stabbing _understanding_ and _concern_ in his eyes - isn't to blame for that lost time.

Which means his presence, here and now, is puzzling indeed:

"What are you doing here, then? If you neither cured me through the lake nor provoked my return?"


	6. Chapter 6

_(Sorry everyone - it's been looooong; but I wasn't entirely satisfied with this bit and had to clear it before going on... here is the revised version, and more will follow !)_

.

**VI. (ARTHUR POV)**

("What are you doing here, then? If you neither cured me through the lake nor provoked my return?")

Merlin seems to hesitate - looking embarrassed?

"I was waiting. Since you- I've been waiting for you."

And this just doesn't make sense.

"Why would you think I would, I could, ever come back, if I was...?"

"There is a prophecy, Arthur. So you were to return, in order to fullfill it."

"A prophecy?"

Arthur is stunned shocked. He had expected some malicious sorcery at work and Merlin having heard of it and come over - it would have made sense; and it would have given him the opportunity to fight, if not to save then at least to honour his lost people. But Fate? How is he supposed to make Fate pay? And what is Its intent to begin with? A prophecy about him? Arthur feels powerless. Is his life not even his own?

Then Arthur remembers the puzzling word has passed Merlin's lips once before.

_(I'm sorry. I thought I'd defied the prophecy.)_

So. Merlin had known about this? Before...? And had never said a word - _again?_ Another secret Merlin has kept from him; but this time, about himself - about *his death*? It feels even worse than Merlin hiding his magic. After all, Merlin's magic concerned Merlin, indeed. But how and why could Merlin - who Arthur considered as his true friend, no matter how often he had repeated they couldn't be - keep something that concerned HIM from him? Especially something that monumental?

It hurts. Arthur wants to scream. But all that comes out is a shocked whisper:

"All those years; and you never said a word. You knew how and when I was to die; and you never said a word."

Merlin looks shattered by the accusation - but he doesn't refute it; only try to explain the unexplainable, eyes apologetic under Arthur's blaming gaze, voice so evidently full of guilt and regrets:

"Because I believed I could actually prevent it from happening, Arthur. You are the once and future king who will unite Albion and bring magic back to the land; and helping you achieve such a goal is to be my destiny. So says the prophecy. So I believed I was the one, the only one, able to prevent it from happening. And as it depended on me alone anyway, I thought I should spare you from the weight of such a burden."

Merlin lets out a deep sigh before meeting his eyes fully again, his voice turning urgent and pleading:

"What was I supposed to say? That your loved ones would turn against you? You wouldn't have believed me. And even if you had... I didn't want you to have to worry all the time and about everything. You have no idea how it feels - the infuriating and desperate helplessness; to constantly fight to stop something you constantly fear, but to see everything you ever try twist and turn against you; to realize at every corner that what you thought you understood means something entirely different; and that nothing you ever do makes a difference in the end... 'Once and future'? I used to think it meant you would win the war; take your throne back for good. Or die trying, by Mordred's hand and Morgana's will - but only if_ I_ failed. There were two stories, and I thought it was to be or/or; but it was and/and. I was such a fool, Arthur; such a blind fool. It's only when you- when you- that I understood what it truly meant as a whole."

Merlin sounds utterly sincere; not only heartbroken but even _empty_ after his confession.

And Arthur wants to believe that Merlin's silence had been well-meant.

But Arthur can't help but feel betrayed still, lingering on the echo of yet another odd word he hadn't realized to be literal at the time.

_(It's my destiny. As it has been since the day we met.)_

And Arthur finally understands what he has never been able to comprehend until now. Merlin's puzzling bone-deep *devotion* to him; that dumbfounding unequivocal absolute *commitment* he has never wanted to doubt nor question. Well; it turns out it has in fact little to do with him... He is just a mean to an end, right? Arthur can't help but replay their shared years through his head now with this new knowledge; and it all slashes through him like a double treachery. Arthur can't even tell what feels the worst:

_Did I_ _ever know you at all?_

_Do you even like me at all?_

'I want you to always be you', he had said - and he had meant it: the magic, all in all, had only been an _addition_ to who Merlin was. But this? This isn't a simple revelation. This feels like a _revolution _\- a definitive, shattering change_. _And it hurts, losing Merlin_; _even though he's right in front of him. Does the person he had always believed Merlin to be even exist? Yet another grief, on top of his fresh mourning for everyone and everything he's lost...

Arthur's hands turn into fists at his sides to suppress his urge to snarl.

"So that's why you came to Camelot. To fullfill your destiny."

"What? No! I had no idea- My mother hoped Gaius might be able to guide me: I had questions, about my magic, and-"

Merlin seems honestly surprised - and appalled - by his train of thoughts; at once standing and coming closer in his urge to explain. But Arthur moves away, keeping distance between them. He cannot trust anymore in his abilities to see straight through Merlin without further information. He has never seen straight through Merlin, apparently.

"When did you hear about it then?"

"A few days after I had arrived in Camelot", Merlin confesses right away; eyes pleading, definitely understanding the terrible weight of his words yet obviously choosing to come clean - but not moving closer this time, knowing it would only be rejected.

And it's here, again; in those little things. The way Merlin not only respects his boundaries, but respects them *even at his own expense*. The way Merlin has kept so much hidden, and for so long; yet can't actually tell a lie right to his face when asked for the outright truth, even to save his own skin. It cannot be pretense, right? On the one hand, Merlin's face tells him all he needs to know. But on the other hand, Arthur still needs more answers, and he commands them.

"Who told you?" (Not Gaius, right? Please; not Gaius.)

"Kilgarrah."

"Kilga- who?" Arthur is honestly puzzled. He surely never heard of someone with such a name in Camelot.

"The dragon your father kept prisoner under the castle."

"What are you speaking about?" Arthur doesn't let Merlin time to answer though, cutting him once more as he opens his mouth - collateral information must wait for later, when faced with such an enormity. "No matter; one treacherous beast just said (can dragons even talk?) *this nonsense*, and you believed it? It's insane!"

"The druids spoke about it too."

"That's even more insane! Why would the druids trust- They hated Camelot. They hated me."

"They didn't. Not all of them, at least. (helpless sigh) Anyway, the prophecy is truth, Arthur. Your return is proof of it. You were to rise again; when Albion's need would be greatest. And you just did, Arthur. You just did."

The words stab through Arthur, making him see red. So Arthur cannot be softened by the evident not only wonder but even joy in Merlin's voice and eyes and _everything._ It comes out in a roar.

"_My people_ needed me! What need can ever be greater than that responsability!"

Silence falls, all the more shattering after his outburst.

But Merlin has heard his need for an answer, and so he gives him one - even if it's none; shaking his head in helplessness, voice breaking and eyes begging:

"I do not know, Arthur."

Merlin is nothing but obviously caring, and sorry - sorry for him; holding his gaze with only patience and commiseration - hurt about his hurt, regrets about his regrets, and helplessness about his helplessness.

And somehow, having to see Merlin's hurt and regrets and helplessness feels _worse_ \- worse than his own hurt and regrets and helplessness, somehow: because the pain on Merlin's features is his own doing, again - even though Arthur has sworn to himself only moments ago never to hurt Merlin that badly anew; and even though Arthur knows that none of the injustice he feels is Merlin's fault to start with, if everything had already been written in the stars anyway. Arthur now feels guilty for having lashed out.

Besides, Arthur knows his rage cannot and will not change a thing, sadly. Even Merlin's supposedly unparalleled magic is powerless, obviously. So. His whole purpose, his reason to be, has simply vanished. The desperate rage finally turns into crushing grief, the shout into a devastated whisper.

"The only _destiny_ I ever wished for was to be the King Camelot needed. And now Camelot is gone."

"No."

The fiery professed word brings his attention back to Merlin - Arthur hasn't been expecting an answer; it hasn't been a question. Merlin shakes his head, a clear denial; and then kneels down on one knee, all reverent, head bowed down.

"For as long as I draw breath, Camelot still stands, Arthur. I may have grown up in Ealdor, but you have always been and will always be my King."

The words ring nothing but deeply heartfelt. But to Arthur, they only feel infuriating. Merlin officially bowing to him off formal ceremonial occasions makes him sick. Because surely Merlin is deferent in any way _but not that one,_ especially when it's just the two of them. And most of all, because this is _fake _and _wrong_. Arthur wouldn't tolerate even for the most helpless person to bow to him _simply because he should_ to start with; so the greatest warlock to walk the Earth, the most powerful being alive probably? The idea isn't only ludicrous, it's simply nauseating.

"Because a prophecy says that you were 'born to serve me'?", Arthur can't help but spit out, knowing now how _literally_ Merlin had meant those words. It is not enough. It could never be enough. Arthur lets out a deep sigh though at the edge he couldn't keep out from his tone, realising in fact and no matter what, he is more angry at Merlin's Fate than at Merlin himself. How come Merlin isn't enraged too, to start with? He is just as much a puppet of Fate as he is, isn't he? "Get up Merlin; this is ridic-"

"Because _I wouldn't change a thing_, Arthur", Merlin exclames, cutting him mid-sentence. And it is not often indeed that Merlin actually raises his voice in anger at him; and it startles Arthur silent.

Arthur has crossed a line, apparently. The most startling though is to realize that Merlin's lines aren't about himself (he sure never looked angry over buckets full of cold water over his head or anything): they're about Arthur - once about Arthur creeping around in the woods unprotected for example; now about Arthur misreading him. Merlin's eyes are now boring into his, nothing but fierce and ardent; even though his voice turns again gentle and even adamant:

"You are not my King because of a prophecy. You are my King *in spite* of it. I grew up wondering why I was born with the abilities I had, indeed. But when I was told... Believe me, I really didn't want it to be true; at least, you bet I didn't want it to be *about you*. But then... I got to see what you were truly made of; who you really were. And everything I've ever done since then has always been for and because of you. That's why my magic is for you; and only for you, Arthur. Not because I am supposed to; but because I want to. _Because I believe in you_. And if my destiny is to be of any help to you then I am _proud of it_ indeed - because I am proud of you."

As always, Merlin just sounds sincere, radiating unwavering loyalty; and Arthur is baffled. Can it still be true, despite it all?

"Please get up, Merlin," Arthur repeats, this time more gently.

"Not yet."

Stubborn - as always, again. It would make Arthur smile if it didn't feel so heartbreaking.

But then, Merlin lowers his gaze once more as his hand moves about his collar, and Merlin is presenting him with Camelot's ruler's ring, holding it out.

"Here. Gwen had what is rightly yours - according to each soul in Camelot - sent to me; so that I could give it back to you on your return."

And Arthur is paralyzed. It means so much. But he cannot take it. It is both too much and not enough. And more importantly: he has no right to - he has let his people down.

"Please, Sire."

And Arthur hears the word exactly for what it is. 'Sire' had used to be his official appellation in Merlin's language in their beginning ('My Lord' being restricted for sarcastic comments since its first use). But its meaning has grown over time - as Arthur had let simply his first name or nothing at all become the norm between them - and Merlin only uses it now on special occasions: whenever Arthur needs an extra boost in confidence and Merlin feels like insisting on his allegiance to him. Some things apparently truly never change.

"It doesn't have to be for me; nor for you."

He's transparent to Merlin, isn't he? Always has been, probably. It doesn't feel worrying though. It is a gift, to have someone who understands him that intrinsically.

"It is the wish of your people. Take back your ring. Wear it with pride. For the love of Camelot."

And how could Arthur deny this? The rallying cry is deep embedded in his soul, indeed - and he would never turn it down. No matter his guilt or inadequacy, Arthur will honor his people's will.

"For the love of Camelot."

Arthur finally takes the ring from Merlin's hand and puts it on.

/

_AN:_

_I swear, those two will be the end of me. Everything about them is so LOADED, and it hurts :( Their shared history is heavy. Merlin's lonesome centuries are heavy. Arthur losing in a wink his reason for being is heavy. I'll never rest until they get some happiness, they just deserve it :(_

_Also, please don't be angry at Arthur. He's not at his best in this bit, I agree; but his purpose for being alive is gone for good and he's supposed to be all right 'because it's meant to be'? He has a lot to go through, and it is a lot to take in. So remember two chapters ago. Arthur isn't good with talking about feelings; but he's brave, and when it matters, he speaks - and he actually said A LOT to Merlin then, for someone usually emotionnally constipated who expresses his affection by throwing punches, right..._


	7. Chapter 7

**VII. (ALTERNATE POV)**

Merlin sadly but undeniably beams at him - and still doesn't seem willing yet to stand up. So Arthur gets down - sitting on the ground instead of commanding Merlin up once more. It's the result that matters anyway: to get them both on the same level. And it works, Merlin finally quitting bowing down to simply sit too.

Arthur focuses for some time on the ring back around his finger, and finally exhales:

"I was unnecessarily harsh, wasn't I?"

And he knows Merlin hears it for the apology it is - and accepts it:

"It's all right, Arthur. I realize it is a lot to take in."

And somehow reassured by Merlin's understanding, Arthur finally dares to ask:

"Will you tell me - what happened?"

Arthur can't help but hold his breath - his loved ones being long dead is bad enough; Arthur isn't sure he could deal with learning that the circumstances of their deaths had been bad too...

/

Merlin feels stabbed in the heart. Because of the swift cut from his own pain at his losses - still, no matter how long ago. And because he can read not only Arthur's pain but also Arthur's _fear_ in Arthur's features.

So Merlin hurries to give Arthur both a firm nod and a fragile but positive smile - a silent soothing promise that it is not the worst, at least:

"I can even *show* you; if you want. Share my memories?"

It's out before Merlin had time to weigh the pros and cons; but Merlin won't back off. Sharing his memories implies sharing how he feels about them - and Merlin of course doesn't want Arthur to get more hurt in the process. But sharing his memories brings an added level of truth and certainty and knowledge to what only words ever could - and Merlin's priority right now is simply to make sure Arthur never gets to wonder about how much he might have edulcorated the past in his retelling.

Arthur starts breathing again, but still has to ask for confirmation, in probably the tiniest voice Merlin ever heard from his King: "They aren't bad, right?"

And Merlin just knows what he should mention first; what Arthur fears the most:

"Gwen lived a full life, and brought Camelot his golden age in your name."

Arthur seems to absorb the information. And then, he smiles - a smile both fond and proud:

"I always knew she would be the greatest Queen."

Arthur meets Merlin's eyes again; sad, of course, but assured:

"I'd like to see, then."

"All right."

Merlin moves closer, extending a hand towards Arthur's forehead, explaining:

"We'll have to be connected. And you must close your eyes."

Arthur studies his eyes a moment - not his hand; then gives a nod, doing as requested. Merlin presses his hand against Arthur's skin; not even taking the time to relish on its welcome warmth - alive! alive! - before plunging inwards.

/

Merlin focuses on Gwen, and there she is.

"I understand why you need to stay here. But please don't become a stranger?"

And so Merlin had taken a pebble from the ground and had enchanted it before giving it to Gwen. If she held it in her hands, they could communicate through their minds.

And that's why Merlin can show to Arthur how she reigned - or, in fact, not. She soon took the title of First Guardian instead of Queen, taking care of Camelot until the return of its true ruler, and ruled Camelot with her Concil of Knights. One guardian in waiting was elected right away, and then every five years, by and from Camelot's commoners, both to assist and to be trained as next Guardian, so that there would always be continuity by people aware of the kingdom's affairs in case Gwen would suddenly disappear. The new Concil Knights were chosen by all Knights from the Knights ranks whenever a Concil Knight had to be replaced. The First Knight (Sir Leon had been the first of course) was elected by his fellow Concil Knights. The next Guardian was to be chosen from and by the guardians in waiting. Everyone admired Gwen's natural grace, intelligence and gentle heart. She was a just and concerned ruler, and her people thrived to be worthy of her. Merlin had placed magicals protections on Camelot's borders, so attacks were rare, and never a surprise. There were winters harder than others, and summers harder than others; but all in all, life in Camelot was good.

His last memory of Gwen still brings tears to his eyes.

"I'm sorry I have to leave you too, my dear old friend; but my time is coming to an end. I can feel it, Merlin. This is our last conversation. And I thank you, for all you did for Camelot, for all I know you will continue doing for Camelot, and most of all, for being here for Arthur, when he finally returns."

Merlin needs a pause.

Arthur is crying silent tears when Merlin cuts their connection.

/

Arthur doesn't know how to deal with the force of it all. He hadn't realized he would not only see but FEEL Merlin's thoughts as clearly as his own - nor that Merlin's feelings would be as conflicted as hiw own.

Because Arthur feels relieved, from what he saw: Guinevere had been well, indeed. And Arthur is grateful, and amazed, and proud, and grateful, again, for all she accomplished, indeed. But he can't help but ponder about what he didn't get to see - or better said, to hear: her laugh.

"Was she happy?"

Merlin confirms his doubt, making a face and hesitating before answering; and Arthur can't help but wince.

"Happiness comes in all sorts, Arthur. After all that had happened... But all in all, she was *content*, I believe. Satisfied about what she had achieved, about her people living in peace and prosperity. It brought her joy, and fullfillment. You know she was always happy for anyone being happy. That counts too, Arthur."

"She never remarried?"

"She didn't."

And Arthur's first emotion at Merlin's words is _guilt_.

"I've doomed her, haven't I? My love for her trapped her into becoming this resplendissant but melancolic Queen." She had been his Queen, and she would always be his Queen, no matter the title she had chosen to wear.

"No. Her love for you."

"_I_ let her down."

"It was neither your fault nor your wish to begin with, Arthur; she knew that."

"But I did it all the same. I had sworn to take care of her; and I didn't."

Arthur can't help but let out a huge sigh.

"She would have been happier with Lancelot, wouldn't have she? If only they had escape-"

/

Merlin's heart definitely cracks at the honesty in Arthur's words. Because Arthur loves Gwen that much indeed - to put her first; even if too late. And because Arthur's remorse is only wishful thinking anyway.

"It wasn't Lancelot at the time, Arthur."

"What?"

"Lancelot had passed behind the veil, and never came out of it. It was a shade, an empty shell brought back and controlled by Morgana to tear you apart. Remember how he was different? So Gaius and I checked. It wasn't Lancelot."

/

Again, Arthur doesn't know how to deal with this new information.

On the one hand, it makes sense, indeed. Lancelot loved Guinevere; had always loved Guinevere - Arthur had realized in retrospect after his Knight's death. But he was nothing but honorable to start with. The Lancelot he knew wouldn't have tried to...

On the other hand, if it hadn't been real, why hadn't Merlin explained it? Merlin had known Arthur had felt guilty for being the reason for Lancelot's death - again. Merlin had known Arthur had blamed Guinevere, even as he had missed her.

But Arthur understands, eventually.

Because it didn't change anything in the end.

Arthur was still the reason for Lancelot's first (and only) death. And Guinevere still loved Lancelot to start with. Arthur had realized that too, long before then - as she had mourned his passing. Knowing bad magic had been involved explained why things had _actually_ happened - Lancelot wasn't Lancelot and Guinevere was enchanted - but it didn't erase the reason things happened from...

Still, it mattered.

Because even if it didn't change the reason, it had taken away Guinevere's choice in the matter, hadn't it? Arthur had accepted not once but twice that he was her second best. Because he loved her. And because she loved him - Arthur had never doubted her love, even though knowing 'With all my heart' meant 'With all there is left of my heart'. So Arthur had chosen to forgive her, of course; but he _had_ blamed her, at first. And he knows Guinevere had always blamed herself. But knowing now what he knows? Arthur believes there would have been nothing to blame her(self) for, if no magic had been at play. Even if Lancelot had been real and she had chosen Lancelot over him? She would have told him, before, instead of...

"Did you ever tell her?"

"Yes. Only after you- but yes."

"Thank you."

.

_AN: _

_It's canon after all magical beings *can* communicate through their minds. Merlin is just powerful enough to create such a link even with not magical persons, bear with me. I mean - he could even communicate with Lancelot's mind after his death, right ! (so no, no, no, this has nothing to do with me being too a Trekkie in love with mind melds...)_

_Also: I have a lot of feelings about how BBC butchered my heart with 4.09 (and their lousy treatment of its aftermath) and it shows, sorry? _


	8. Chapter 8

**VIII. (ARTHUR POV)**

.

Arthur has noticed another oddity in Merlin's memories: Gwaine - or better said: his absence. He's seen Gaius (even though only in the earliest memories, sadly but logically), Leon, Percival - all older than he had known them. But there has been no Gwaine; and Arthur doesn't dare to ask. On the one hand, Arthur knows Gwaine's loyalty had always been to Merlin first, so perhaps be had decided to keep at Merlin's side at the lake? On the other hand though... It feels too positive to be true, and Arthur fears Gwaine wasn't only absent from Camelot but from everywhere else too. And so, Arthur doesn't ask - he simply doesn't want Merlin to have to relive nor explain any of it, in case it might be the second option.

As he's pondering on this all, he starts undoing the ties at his wrists - he evidently doesn't need his armour (as Merlin doesn't seem expecting an attack), and his body reminds him he'd like to get dry...

Merlin is suddenly in front of him - "Sorry Arthur, I should have realized-" - aiming for the ties; and Arthur swiftly moves his arm further away, out of Merlin's reach:

"What do you think you are doing?"

Merlin looks at him as if he's lost his head:

"Helping you out of your armour, as I should have done ten times already by now?"

And so Arthur has to spell out the obvious, apparently:

"You cannot be my manservant anymore, Merlin."

Merlin's head tilts, and his eyebrows furrow; but in worry more than puzzlement.

"Because I have magic?"

And Arthur feels like slapping himself. No matter how defiant it might sound, there is an undertone in Merlin's voice - a hurt, fragile, fearful tone Arthur has heard only once: when he had pushed Merlin away after he had revealed his secret. Of course Merlin misread the swift withdrawal of his arm coupled with such words for disgust or fear! Arthur inches now closer to Merlin, wishing to make sure Merlin knows he doesn't - *doesn't* - fear him nor feel repulsed by him, and corrects him with a shy smile:

"Because you are the most powerful sorcerer to ever walk the Earth. And now that I'm aware of it, it doesn't feel right to have you wash my socks and emptying my chamber pot? There surely must be greater things for you to do."

Merlin seems stunned for a moment - and then he shakes his head.

"I swear this is the most ridiculous thought you ever had. What should my abilities have to do with being adequate or not for being your manservant? And why taking care of my mother made me a loving son, but taking care of you should be demeaning?"

Arthur can only sigh:

"Because your mother didn't throw buckets of water over your head nor throw stuff at you?"

Merlin seems surprised by Arthur's sudden open shame at his own past behaviour. Then Merlin's eyes turn softer, and his voice sort of soothing:

"I accepted it as part of the job, Arthur... I never complained, right?"

"You should have. I was searching for your limit, I think, in a way; because there seem to be none; and I... appreciated that. But I know sometimes I went too far..."

It's Merlin's turn to sigh:

"Don't you see? You never really minded my bad mouthing you either, did you? So surely, you must understand. Believe me, I didn't want to complain. Because somehow, I sort of relied on it. It kept me... grounded."

Arthur hadn't expected such an answer; but indeed, it makes sense. Power can easily get to the head. Especially such as Merlin's - alledgedly unparalleled. And knowing Merlin's *kindness*? Of course he'd fear to succomb to its lure...

And yet, Arthur knows he sometimes abused his. And only rarely, and never straightforwardly, apologized.

"Your playful insolence cannot equal some of my faults, Merlin. You never took out on me your anger for something I had no responsability in..."

"Again, Arthur: I accepted it as part of the job."

"A manservant isn't supposed to be a receptacle for one's fury."

"No. But a good friend can be."

Arthur has to close his eyes. _Friend_. No matter how many times he had repeated to Merlin that they could never be friends (not that he didn't want Merlin as his friend; simply because he couldn't - a King is alone); he cannot refute that it's what they became, indeed. And this time, at least, finally, even if he's not saying it, he doesn't want to deny it out loud. Even if it only makes his past behaviour even more shameful. He gives Merlin a sad smile:

"Well, in that case... Just as a powerful sorcerer, a good friend shouldn't be a manservant, either."

Merlins smiles back:

"Wrong again. *Only* a good friend should be a manservant. Because a manservant's tasks definitely aren't limited to tending to one's physical needs. (a smirk) And by the way, to tell the truth; if it bothers you that much? I never actually touched your dirty laundry, nor your chamber pot."

Arthur can't help but laugh at that.

"Is there anything you've actually done with your two hands?"

He sobers right away though, not wanting Merlin to think he actually means any of it.

"I know there is, Merlin", Arthur pledges.

_My armour._

_My food._ (As Arthur suddenly realizes Merlin's habit of 'stealing' from his plate has probably been about protecting him from poisons more than about keeping him in shape).

_Applying Gaius's healing balm to the bruises on my back I couldn't reach on my own._

_Making sure my clothes fit._

That list could go on and on, you bet...

"I know."

"Good. (expectantly bringing his hand up, palm up) So now that the matter is settled, will you allow me the honour?"

_'The honour, Merlin'_, Arthur had once mouthed to a glaring Merlin. So, Merlin uttering that word is definitely unprecedented. But then, so is their situation right now. And of course Merlin would feel Arthur, maybe just this once, without his head getting the size of his waist, might actually NEED to hear that word.

Only Merlin though could utter it with both such mirth (in his voice) yet so much devotion (in his eyes).

Arthur smiles, warmly this time, bringing his arm in Merlin's wainting hand.

"As long as you know the honour is all mine."

Merlin shakes his head and sighs, loudly.

Arthur knows though from the blush that reaches his ears that Merlin heard he meant it.

.

_I'M SCREAMING ! LOOK AT THOSE TWO IDIOTS ! (anyone with me ?)_


	9. Chapter 9

**IX. (ALTERNATE POV)**

.

The moment Merlin unties the first knot and get to feel Arthur's sleeve, he exclames:

"Arthur! You're soaked through!"

It shouldn't come as a surprise (Arthur just got out of a lake, right), and yet, it is - Arthur must be freezing, and Merlin hadn't noticed; even though Merlin understands that Arthur must have been too preoccupied to realize or care about being wet and cold until now.

Merlin's first instinct is to remediate the situation. He stops himself though; using his magic about Arthur without his authorization, now that he knows, just feels wrong.

"May I dry your clothes?"

Arthur blinks when he realizes Merlin's intent. He shows no hesitation though; only tilts his head closer in... curiosity?

"Go ahead."

Arthur watches. If he notices his eyes flashing gold, he doesn't comment on it. But there is a sudden intake of breath as Arthur must feel himself warming up:

"You've done this before, haven't you?"

Merlin tries to shrug casually while internally fidgeting nervously:

"Well, being on patrol was hazardous enough on its own without worrying about you getting sick..."

_/ _

_My magic is for you, Arthur. Only for you._

Leaves and earth covering up their tracks. Attackers tripping on their own feet, or their weapons missing target. Arthur had understood in retrospect how often indeed Merlin must have been using his magic to protect and even save his life.

But Arthur suddenly realizes that Merlin apparently always had in mind not strictly his survival but also, simply, his well-being? It is undeniable though, as Arthur also realizes that he should have noticed indeed how there had been no more waking up in wet clothes, even after heavy rains, ever since Merlin had accompanied him on patrol...

It's heartwarming, somehow - the repeated little gestures yet another proof that Merlin truly cared about him; hadn't sticked around simply because he believed he was supposed to. On the other hand, though, it feels... concerning. Being proven just how much and how regularly Merlin had used his magic without him noticing... Arthur cannot help but wonder:

"Did you ever use your magic *on me*, Merlin?"

Merlin seems to shrink on himself at the question; and so does Arthur's heart.

But then, Merlin stretches his hand towards his forehead - no hesitation, intent clear - and Arthur recognizes exactly what Merlin is willing to *give* (you truly cannot lie in your own head, right), and feels he shouldn't let this happen.

"Just tell me, Merlin. You don't have to show me."

And from Merlin sad but there smile, Arthur knows Merlin heard the 'I trust you' and 'I believe you' he meant.

Merlin takes a deep breath, and holds his gaze:

"I've used magic to cure you, several times."

Weel, that one was expected. Arthur knew he had made indeed some miraculous recoverings; so of course he had already figured out that at least a few, if not each and every one, must have been Merlin's work. He nods.

"Not necessarily mine," Merlin amends. "Gaius knew stuff, thankfully, because healing is... well... hard."

Merlin averts his eyes for a moment, and Arthur realizes how horrible it must be, to be Merlin. All that presumed power; and yet. Will. Himself. How many deaths Merlin feels guilty to have *failed* to prevent. Arthur knows that burden. And it is definitely not a burden he wished for anyone to have to bear. Arthur realizes something else too, suddenly. Dragoon. It was Merlin. Which means...

"Is that what happened; with my father? It didn't work?"

Merlin sighs.

"I tried; I swear I tried my best. I knew how much you didn't want to lose him."

And no matter how hard it should be to believe those words - knowing his father's position on anything even remotely magical - Arthur just cannot doubt Merlin's open face. And it is dumbfounding, honestly, to realize just *how much*, truly, Merlin cares about him.

"But I don't know if I would have succeed; even without Morgana's trick. I was able to save you only once on my own; and it was later on..."

"Morgana's trick?"

"There was an amulet. It reversed any magical attempt to cure your father; making him worse... I'm sorry, Arthur."

Arthur has to take a deep breath.

"It wasn't your doing." No matter that it technically was; Arthur just have to have Merlin hearing it.

Merlin's reaction at his words is going to tear his heart, so Arthur quickly redirects the conversation back to his original question.

"Anything else?"

Merlin takes another breath, more to shake himself out of it than to soldier on though this time.

"I had to knock you unconscious a few times; mostly to prevent you from doing things you definitely would regret later on while being enchanted by people who didn't meant well."

Well. That doesn't sound too bad either, right? Even though Arthur realizes how often indeed someone must have put a spell on him indeed? He had a long history of concussions ever since Merlin came into his service... Arthur nods once more.

"And once," Merlin looks at him, nothing but apologetic. "Once, I put a spell on you myself."

Arthur's breathing stops. Merlin pushes through quickly, obviously uncomfortable and ashamed about it.

"You were about to act foolly - and so I... I turned you into a fool, literally."

"What do you mean, literally?"

"You wouldn't leave Camelot. You were about to rush against Aggravaine and Morgana, a lost fight for sure. And just knocking you out would have hindered our escaping. It was easier if you willingly cooperate. So... I made you forget. Forget Camelot; forget you were its King; in order to get you out, to get you safe, until we could regroup and return to reclaim it."

"You made me... *forget*... *Camelot*?"

"Yes. You didn't know who you were anymore; for the next 24 hours or so... And I apologize. But I cannot regret it, Arthur. Your plan wasn't a plan, it was suicide."

Arthur can't help but feel troubled at the thought. Surely, this was crossing a line. And yet. Merlin could have easily kept silent about this after all. Any witness was long dead. But he came clean. And he knew it was wrong, obviously. That should count for something too, probably...

There is silence, for a long moment - Arthur thinking, and Merlin... seemingly waiting for his sentence. Maybe that's just what does it in the end; but Arthur finally nods, again.

"Is that it?"

"Yes?"

"Well, in that case, why don't you go on with removing my armour."

And judging by Merlin's enthusiasm to get to work, Arthur believes Merlin heard the 'It's fine' he meant. Not all right maybe; but fine all the same.


End file.
